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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30001500">Second First Impressions</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/HellKnightInShiningArmor/pseuds/HellKnightInShiningArmor'>HellKnightInShiningArmor</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Half-Life</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alcohol Mentions, Barney gets the singular use of saying fuck, Gordon gets his awful greasy mullet, Gordon is trans although its really only hinted at in passing, M/M, heartwarming hypocritical, tagged as both because you could take it either way, these are two halves of a whole idiot</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 19:53:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,367</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30001500</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/HellKnightInShiningArmor/pseuds/HellKnightInShiningArmor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The spiritual successor to "The Work Sucks But The Benefits Are Great"</p><p>Barney borrows a coworkers Caddy to finally introduce Gordon to the town over's best (and only) bar.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Barney Calhoun &amp; Gordon Freeman, Barney Calhoun/Gordon Freeman</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>37</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Second First Impressions</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Gordon's dialogue is signed but in quotation marks as is preferred formating.</p><p>~~~ notes a perspective switch</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"No Scum Allowed Saloon?" Gordon noted the name of the bar that he had ended up in front of at 6:45 pm on a Friday afternoon under the chill of the New Mexico dusk setting in.</p><p>He would ask himself how he got here, but the person in the driver's seat provided all the answers he needed.</p><p>It was that rascal Black Mesa Security Guard Barney Calhoun that had brought him here.</p><p>More accurately, Barney had been hounding him to make up that beer he promised him on his first day at work. It had been months since then, and if he hadn't made it up with that shitty Canadian stuff he kept in the dorm fridge, he was sure that all the convenient "extra snacks" from the vending machine had made up for it by now. He had no clue why Barney was so insistent about this gesture. In fact, he was not sure why the man beside him had been so insistent about hanging around him at all. There was clearly some interdepartment hostility, and if there weren't office politics to fret over, it wasn't exactly like he was easy to warm up to. Barney was making a special effort. Maybe that's why he had felt obligated to come along tonight.  </p><p>"All the regulars call it White Oaks Bar, Doc," Barney finally piped up from his spot slumped slightly against the steering wheel, tapping his fingertips against the wheel's side.</p><p>It honestly looked a little silly seeing that he was sitting in an open roofed Cadillac with a sharp-angled windshield. He was only a few inches from being pressed against the glass, and he certainly was crumpling that tacky dress shirt, the blue one with the white cuffs and collar to match the white vertical stripes, the one he was beginning to believe was the only nice shirt in Barney's closet.</p><p>As a matter of fact, the posture would make sense if only for the fact this wasn't Barney's car. He had seen Barney's car, a beaten up Land Cruiser with sides plastered with desert dirt and sand. </p><p>...Did he seriously borrow somebody Caddy just to impress him?</p><p>He couldn't deny that it was working a little. I mean it was a lot of effort to put in just to finally buy him this elusive beer he had promised since he had been hired at Black Mesa a few months ago. The fresh air spending down the long stretches of pavement was a nice contrast to the recycled air in the facility. Plus, by the looks of it, Barney had washed it himself. The fact that news hadn't been circulating around the office was a small miracle in it of itself. It seemed like Barney had a lot riding on this second first impression.</p><p>Even then, he couldn't just let Barney off easy for that correction about the bar's supposed title.<br/>
He had to at least get him back a little.</p><p>"Because it's the only bar in White Oaks."</p><p>"No....I mean yes. If you hadn't noticed, we're kind of in the middle of a desert. The point is that I don't want you sticking out like a sore thumb."</p><p>Gordon rolled his eyes heavily at that and gestured to the fact he was still in Black Mesa's standard lab uniform. He was pretty sure the bleach white lab coat and ironed slacks were going to be a dead giveaway.</p><p>"Thought you would say that. Not my fault you're always running late. So busy doing one thing for one person you trip over yourself getting to the next. I have an extra shirt in the back for just the occasion."</p><p>Barney's shirt? It was wide, but he had almost half a foot of height on Barney. It was going to look ridiculous.</p><p>On the other hand, it was Barney's shirt.....</p><p>It wasn't like he was sentimental about those sort of things. Not at all. It would be foolish not to take the opportunity. Plus, he could wash and return it alongside the mound of Barney's jackets that had been "conveniently" left at his dorm. </p><p>Reluctantly, he reached over his seat and felt around the spongy floor mats until his hands hit fabric.</p><p>It was a rather oversized, faded baby blue t-shirt emblazoned with everybody's favorite Monday hating, lasagna loving cat.</p><p> </p><p>"It was an impulse purchase on a road trip..." Barney responded defensively to the inquisitive look he was giving at the shirt's subject matter.</p><p>"And you thought this particular shirt was a good plan b to keep in your car?"</p><p>"I am just saying it's going to be more comfortable than your dress shirt, but what could little old Barney know that brilliant Doctor Freeman doesn't?"</p><p>He shook his head, but for once, Barney did have a brain between his ears. The t-shirt was more practical, even if it was going to make him look like a tourist. </p><p>He untucked his shirt and let his hands linger at the hem. </p><p>"What are you waiting for now? It's not gonna do a trick if you keep starring at it."</p><p>"I don't want an audience for this. I know you guards are a little less worried about that, but..."</p><p>He didn't need to even finish his sentence to get a reaction. Barney had already made a show of turning away and covering his face with his hands before stating, "I'm not looking, Gordon. You act as if it's something I haven't seen before."</p><p>In response, he did what any rational and mature adult would do. He chucked his lab coat over his teasing coworker, just to be sure.</p><p>The parking lot seemed full but with no new activity. Perfect. While he wasn't terribly self-conscious about the minute scars or the general paleness of his chest, he did not think whatever locals frequented this bar based on Barney's description needed to see that.</p><p>Quickly with a practiced rhythm, he unbuttoned the standard issue sky blue uniform shirt and undid the clashing tie which were chucked haphazardly in the back seat.</p><p>Next came the borrowed shirt which hung over his thin frame like an ill-conceived comic poncho. At the very least, it did retain that pine soap smell that he had come to associate with Barney. That was something.</p><p>Finally, dressed and ready to go, he exited the car with Calhoun trailing him not far behind. He wouldn't expect anything less.</p><p>Across the dusty parking lot, he strode towards the old wooden structure, miraculously not eaten by the loose clay soil that clung to most things around here. Much like the lettering of the bar's name, most of the outside structured glittered with scrap metal license plates that glittered in the low light of the setting sun. </p><p>The heavy oak door at the bar's front creaked open to reveal the warm, bustling atmosphere inside.</p><p>The bar was crawling with Black Mesa employees, most of them in full uniform and most of them starring directly at both of them.</p><p>If he didn't value his job or the composed view his coworkers had of him, he could have killed Barney right here in front of the Americana-stuffed walls.</p><p>~~~</p><p>So maybe he exaggerated what the bar was like. So what? Of all the lies he had told to stop the various Black Mesa employees placated, this one was mild.</p><p>It wasn't really his fault anyway. He had to get him out of the coat and into a nice car that he had borrowed on far too many favors from various lab boys here and there. It was Gordon Fucking Freeman...renowned physicists, the glue that was holding his job security together. If he hadn't pulled out the stop early and gotten Gordon distanced from that lab position, he wouldn't have had a minute to spend with him once Gordon's coworkers descended on him. Even wearing his old baggy Garfield t-shirt, Gordon was kind of easy to spot in a crowd between the spindly runner's frame and the auburn hair. If he wanted to keep Gordon's attention for more than a second, he had to get a bit creative. </p><p>Trying to ease Gordon's clear tension, he offered out something adjacent to an apology, "Alright, I over exaggerated a teeny bit, but it was just to get you to loosen up a little."</p><p>Gordon only scowled down at him while leaning against the door frame. At any other time, he would have chided him for how easily he was going to fall. It really was a miracle Gordon hadn't caused some major lab accident yet being as clumsy as he was. Regardless, those bad habits were the least of his worries at the moment. The top priority was getting Gordon to stay with him for a bit.</p><p>Going on impulse of the first plan of action, he offered, "Hey, since you're already more casual, I might as well finish the look."</p><p>Before Gordon could ask what he meant, evident by the way his green eyes squinted and his brow furrowed, he had already managed to dart up enough to get out the flimsy black hair tie Gordon seemed to always have in.<br/>
It was...well..maybe all those movie transformations about secretaries taking down their ponytails had not been as accurate as he thought.</p><p>"Jesus, Gordon. I thought it was just a rat tail. That would just be a college relic, but this- a mullet- this is a series of bad decisions that you have clearly been sticking to. How does that even all fit when you tie it up for labs?"</p><p>Unamused it seems, Gordon was already trying to snatch the hair tie back. Oh, so it was going to be a competition. He knew very well how to work with Gordon under those circumstances and how to beat him without breaking a swear.</p><p>He might not have the height advantage, but he certainly had the advantage maneuvering, at least he thought.</p><p>Sure, the start was easy enough, passing the tie low in between his hands while creating a bit of distance. He just hadn't accounted for the archaic infrastructure of the building playing right into a closely pursuing Gordon's hands.</p><p>Gordon had him pinned, or at least close enough to it without causing a scene by having him cornered against a support beam. </p><p>Gordon just about had it, pressed far too close and trying to yank the piece of elastic out of his vice like grip. It was definitely a mental image he'd hold on to.</p><p>And then the band snapped, right in his fingertips.</p><p>Alright, damage control, Calhoun. He was on thin enough ice as it was.</p><p>"I'm just giving you a hard time, Doc. You look great. Lighten up a bit, would ya?"</p><p>Gordon gave him the tensest, toothiest interpretation of what might have been a smile he'd seen from him since that awful company id photo.</p><p>He shouldn't have expected anything else.</p><p>"Fine, fine. Point taken. Would you at least pretend this isn't the worst time you've ever had in your life?"</p><p>Gordon tapped a finger to his chin, pretending he needed a minute to think on it.</p><p>"You're the worst. You know that, right, Gordon?" </p><p>Gordon simply nodded along at that one. It was nice to know he could at least see he was a huge pain in the ass at times. Not that Barney minded.....</p><p>"Why don't I get you that beer I've been promising? No need to sulk around your coworkers...I mean aside from me...."</p><p>There was a pause, long enough to make his stomach turn at the prospect of rejection.</p><p>Then, Gordon nodded. </p><p>Gordon nodded and whatever his ill-constructed plan here was back on course.</p><p>Wandering through the dimly lit space, there was a small comfort in feeling Gordon's hand linger almost close enough to hold his while navigating booths of Black Mesa employees all trading over exaggerated stories from their departments.</p><p>There was also small comfort in recognizing the bar tender, another Martison College drifter like him, and being able to signal for two glasses from across the main seating area cluttered with tight booths and chotskies of flags and roadmaps and signage. </p><p>Things were smooth sailing as the hiss of taps overshadowed the swanky country crooning playing over the loudspeakers. All that was left was to square up with the bar tender.</p><p>He patted the front of his well-worn dress pants to retrieved his wallet and came up empty.</p><p>Well, shoot.</p><p>Of all the times he had to go and leave his wallet on his dorm dresser, this had to be at least in the top three for inconvenience.</p><p>He scanned the bar. He could call in another favor, maybe from Otis or another one of the guards. He'd hate to have ruined the night so early on.</p><p>By the time he looked back, money was already on the counter, and two mugs were already by Gordon's hands.</p><p>"You know you didn't have to do that."</p><p>"Somebody had to pay for them. I would think a guard understood basic petty theft," Gordon replied with a flat expression on his face.</p><p>"You know you are making it very hard for me to get you that beer I owed you."</p><p>"Guess you will just owe me a beer next week. Maybe after the big test,"</p><p>"I would've owed you one anyway to celebrate at that point, Gordon. Not to mention, that I-I..."</p><p>His train of thought was lost with the sound of Gordon patting a pleather booth seat nearby, a softer and more genuine smile on his face, waiting for Barney to join him.</p><p>It wasn't about the beer at all, was it?</p><p>Well, he knew for him it never had been. It had been trying to get the quiet stranger to feel included which quickly morphed into wanting to impress the brilliant physicists who had given him a chance despite being duller than dirt. He just never expected the same sentiment from Gordon.</p><p>Buying his beer was an invitation to do this again, a contrived justification to spend more time together.</p><p>When he put it that way, he supposed owing Gordon a beer next week wasn't the worst thing in the world....</p>
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